


Running Back To Where I First Began

by But_I_Dont_Want_2_Be_A_Grown_up



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cousin Incest, Dark Sansa, Dissociation, Drug Use, F/M, R plus L equals J, Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma, complex PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-15 22:32:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11815515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/But_I_Dont_Want_2_Be_A_Grown_up/pseuds/But_I_Dont_Want_2_Be_A_Grown_up
Summary: Sansa Starks mother sent her away from the family farm to live with her Aunt and Uncle at the age of fifteen, not just to keep her away from a certain cousin but to give her a life full of privilege and opportunity. If only that had been the case.It's been six years since that fateful decision and Sansa struggles with how the world has shaped her into the young woman she has become. Keeping secrets isn't easy and she's learned keeping her distance from the ones she loves is the only way to ensure they stay buried but Sansa doesn't have that luxury anymore. Her parents have died in a horrible car accident and it's time to go home, her remaining family needs her and she's tired of running, tired of always looking over her shoulder.Will Sansa be able to maintain the careful mask she has constructed and how long until her past finally catches up to her? How will the Stark family save their failing farm and fight against the neighbors who wish to take it for themselves?This is a story about life after trauma, a story about self-sacrifice, family hardships and learning to love your self as much as you love those dearest to you.





	1. Yeah I'm empty inside, I just don't feel alive. And I dont want to live but I'm too scared to die

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time ever writing on this site and its also my first time writing anything in a very long time, so I'm sorry if this sucks lol. This is definitely going to be a Jonsa fic but it will most likely be a slow burn... maybe not though. I'm taking this one chapter at a time but I do have a vague outline and plan of where I want this to go, so please be patient with me! A few quick notes though: Sansa and Jon are first cousins in this story, it doesn't bother me, I live in and grew up in Ohio and actually know a couple of "kissing cousins" lol but I do know the whole incest thing bothers a lot of people so... there's your warning, the fact that they are cousins will not be downplayed in this fic. ALSO I have a feeling this fic is going to be pretty dark at times, Sansa is dark and this fic will deal with a lot of mature themes such as drug (mostly weed) and alcohol use, suicidal thoughts, memories of traumatic situations and detailed representation of complex ptsd to list a few. As I said I'm new to this site and if I haven't tagged something correctly please notify me and I will fix the issue immediately. I don't know how deep and detailed I'm going to go into Sansa's trauma, that's still up in the air but I will post a trigger warning at the beginning of each chapter when necessary. This isn't just a fan fic to me, its a writing exercise as well as a form of therapy in a way, I guess. I have complex ptsd from my own childhood trauma and will possibly be pulling from some of my own personal experiences so please don't be nasty. constructive criticism is very much welcomed though and as of now I have no Beta so I apologize in advance LOL hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> *Chapter title is taken from Olivia O'Brien's song Empty
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER  
> \- Suicidal thoughts  
> \- Mild drug use
> 
>  
> 
> *****THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN EDITED PLEASE BE SURE TO RE-READ*****
> 
> Ok, so first of all thanks for all of your awesome support! It feels so good to know that people like what I've written so far! I know I haven't commented back but I do see your comments and I appreciate every single one of them! I am working on my second chapter but I decided to come back and not only fix my formatting but I also added a bit more detail and background to this chapter to help pave the way for a smoother chapter two so make sure you re-read this chapter! 10/17/2017  
> ENJOY!

It’s dark outside when Sansa crawls out of bed, confused and still slightly drunk. Her head is heavy and her mouth dry, she can taste the whiskey and stale cigarettes on her breath from the night before. She winces, stubbing her toe on the rather large dictionary, left carelessly on the floor of her tiny studio apartment.

Stumbling around, Sansa begins searching for her cell phone. It had woken her up with its incessant ringing and now that she’s finally up and looking for it, it’s completely silent. She starts grabbing jeans up off her floor at random. Searching the pockets. A lighter and half a joint falls out of one pair and she sparks it up before continuing her search, taking a big hit and holding it in before exhaling.

Her phone started ringing again. She finds it in a pair of jeans right by her front door, she must have stripped down to her panties the moment she walked in before passing out on her tiny, twin sized bed. _Fuck, I’ve got to stop living like this,_ she thinks to herself as the shrill ringing penetrates her skull. She looks at the screen and hits the joint a few more times, it had been Robb calling. She swipes the screen to unlock it and realizes he had been calling for the past hour. _20 missed calls, what the fuck?_ Sansa thinks to herself.

She clears her throat, attempting to clear the pot and lingering liquor from her voice and mentally prepares herself for a conversation with her brother Robb. He wasn’t aware of her “lifestyle,” none of her family was. They still thought of her as the perfect, pristine Sansa they had known all those years ago and she prefers to keep it that way. The Stark family had enough problems without her adding to the rather long list. She cleared her throat a few more times, stubbing out the joint in an over flowing ashtray. She presses the call button.

“Sansa.” Robb picks up immediately.

“Robb, what’s wrong?” The slight wobble and strange pitch to his voice makes her forget all about the excuse she had cooked up for not answering sooner. Sansa had been lying to her family for so long that it just came naturally at this point, like instinct but not tonight. Tonight, was different and something was wrong, she felt it sharp in her weary heart.

“Robb? Hello? Robb can you hear me? What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

He was crying now, a nearly soundless sobbing. It makes Sansa’s blood run cold, the way an IV drip does.

“Robb tell me what’s going on,” she screeches, “what the fuck is going on?” She stands motionless now, breath bated, body rigid. Waiting for the devastating wave to smash over her, to break her into millions of tiny pieces. She knows this feeling all too well, it seemed to be the one constant in her life. Once again, her world was about to change for the worst.

A high-pitched whine followed by a guttural moan, rang through Sansa’s ear. Hearing such a horrendous noise spill out from behind her big brother’s lips made her heart break, in a way it had never been broken before. Not by Petyr or Joffrey, not even by Ramsay. Sansa literally felt a piece of her soul die in that moment.

She began to feel the familiar sensation of leaving her body, her hands were holding the phone but she couldn’t feel the phone. Her head felt light and detached like a balloon and before she could even think about grounding herself, a faraway voice from her past called her back, jolting Sansa back into her body.

“Sansa, I’m so sorry…”

“J-Jon?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” He states with a heavy sigh. “Listen, are you sitting down?”

“I… Yes, I’m sitting down,” she says, sliding to the floor. It comes out flat, monotone. She feels nothing, she is nothing, in this moment she just _is._

“Sansa, there’s been an accident, a car accident. Your parents… God, I’m so sorry Sansa, your parents didn’t make it.” He chokes on that last part, his voice heavy, thick with pain and saliva.

She says nothing. She waits for the pain to kick in, her heart should be shattering after all. She waits for the tears to stream down her face, for the screams to tare through her throat, she waits for her body to curl into its self, to rip and pull and break its self apart. It doesn’t though. Nothing happens, she has no tears, no moans, no god-awful pain. Just an all-consuming emptiness. 

“Sansa?” Jon questions.

 She’s not sure how much time has passed. How long has she been sitting on her messy floor, phone clutched tightly to her ear?

She knows he’s waiting for some kind of response, that he’s worried for her. Sansa is by herself, far away in Highgarden, with no relations close by and Jon has just told her both her parents are dead. She struggles for words, how does one reply to that kind of news, over the phone? what is she supposed to say?

“I have to pack now Jon, I’ll be on the road in a few hours. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” It comes out as barely a whisper before she hangs up the phone.

 

_My parents are dead. My parents are dead. My parents are dead. My parents are dead._

It’s all Sansa can think as she gets up and starts throwing her worldly goods into backpacks and baskets and totes. It plays over and over again, a mantra in her mind.

She picks up the carpet of clothing, dropping them into laundry baskets. _My parents are dead._ As she packs away her digital piano and guitar, _my parents are dead._ Shoving her computer and school books into their rightful bags, _my parents are dead._

Heading to the bathroom, Sansa begins grabbing things at random. Toothbrush, makeup, hair product, tampons, flat iron, blow dryer, razor. She leaves the roll of toilet paper. _My parents are dead._ She strips her bed, shoving pillows, sheets and blankets into white trash bags, _my parents are dead._

Opening the drawer to the night-stand, chucking her weed and papers into her purse along with her phone charger. _My parents are dead._ She pulls out the gun she keeps hidden there along with the box of bullets. In that moment Sansa is glad she can’t feel, glad she’s not in agony like Robb.

 She wonders what she would do in this moment if she were. Would she flip the safety switch off? Hold the cold, hard metal to her temple and pull the trigger? Would her pain be so strong in this moment that it finally broke her, would she finally be strong enough to pull the damn trigger?

If Sansa was being honest with herself she hasn’t wanted to live for a long time now but she was never able to take that final step because at the end of the day, Sansa was just too scared to die. Her therapist told her that was a good thing.

Death was finale, she had told Sansa and no matter how bad her life had been, no matter how fucked up she was now, she was still alive and that was a good thing. For all the trauma she had suffered, the world had just as many, if not more, good and beautiful experiences to offer her.

Sansa liked that idea and she dared to hope that her therapist was right. _My parents are dead._ She places the gun gently into her purse. _My parents are dead but my siblings are alive._

Packing hadn’t taken as long as she thought it would, she had done a sloppy job of it and she didn’t have a lot, not anymore. She had left it all behind when she fled from Ramsay, there hadn’t been time to pack anything more than a quick getaway bag back then.

That had been hard on her, once upon a time Sansa had loved pretty things and she’d had ever so many. Beautiful and expensive clothing she had collected during her years living with her Aunt Lysa and Petyr, random mementos Petyr had bought for her to remember their secret trips and overseas vacations. Joffrey used to buy her forgiveness with jewelry and expensive nick-knacks every time he treated her like shit and that had been a frequent ritual.

Not Ramsay though, the only thing he ever gave her were the scars on her body and in return she let him keep all her pretty things. Sansa used to wonder frequently what he had done with it all. Had he burnt her favorite mint green, cashmere sweater? Did he re-gift Joffrey’s diamond and pearl bracelet?  

No. knowing Ramsay, he probably kept every single item. Waiting until he could snatch her up off the street and return her to the room holding all her precious valuables. The room that had once been her prison. Sansa would die before she ever saw the inside of that room again and that’s the only thing that mattered. Never again.

 It had been a hard lesson for her to learn, not putting so much value into _things_ , but she learned it all the same and Sansa never forgot a life lesson. Since then she had taken a more minimalist approach to life and she liked that, it felt so freeing in a way, to be able to just pick up and leave without anything holding her back. It was liberating.

Once again, Sansa had managed to squeeze her entire life into the tiny black jeep her Father had given her on her seventeenth birthday. She did it in record timing. Only this time she wasn’t running away from anyone, she was running to something. Back to her childhood home and the people that loved her. She was running back to where she first began and that terrified Sansa, as much as it thrilled her. _But my parents are dead._

The shock of their deaths finally hit her and she physically felt the emotions her mind had been holding at bay. They welled up and over her body, trying to engulf and suffocate her. She couldn’t afford to break down just yet, there wasn’t time. she had to keep it together, for her brothers, for her sister, for… No, she couldn’t go there. Wouldn’t go there, not right now anyways.

She grabbed her bong and packed it up with what she liked to think of as her “medicine.” It helped her to forget. To draw the curtains over her ugly life experiences so she didn’t have to glare at them, all day every day. She would allow herself a quick twenty minutes before dropping the apartment key, with a letter of explanation and that months’ rent, into her landlord’s, old mail slot. She wasn’t coming back.

She smoked fast, coughing and choking on the smoke that was her salvation, trying hard to will herself back into a dissociative state. She usually had to fight it off, to ground herself physically so that she was Sansa and not a robot working on auto pilot. Today was different though.

As the morning sun began to rise and fall through the cheap blinds on her window, she willed that feeling of detachment to overtake her. The tingling sensation that started at the base of her head and worked its way down her spine, the feeling of her astral body leaving her physical body.  It was better not to feel.

Sansa hit the bong one last time before stowing it away in her backpack, fumbling with the zipper a few times. _God, she was high._ She took one last look around the apartment before locking up, making sure she hadn’t left anything behind. She dropped the key into the slot box and walked out into the early morning chill, pulling her plaid flannel closer.

She didn’t look back as she pulled away, there was no point, she had never thought of this place as home. It was just a semi-safe place for her to lay her head, at night and lay low while she kept off certain people’s radars. The only real home she had ever known was in Winterfell, a tiny northern town where everybody knew everybody. Where blood and loyalty meant everything.

The mere thought of her home town sent a parade of shivers up and down her spine. Sansa had longed and pined for home and the safety it represented for years. She had craved it so badly that the intensity of it, scared her. She hadn’t felt safe since that day six years ago when her mother had decided to send her away.

Over the years, Sansa had pleaded with Catelyn Stark to let her come home, not just for visits but for good. Catelyn had denied Sansa’s pleas at every turn, until finally Sansa had quit asking. She had accumulated secrets that were far too twisted and vile to ever see the light of day and the thought of her family learning about how she let Uncle Petyr use her, how she left Joffrey treat her would make her physically ill. She had been disgusted with herself.

Then Ramsey happened and Sansa had quit visiting all together. It had been hard enough, hiding the secrets and the finishing product, that was her. Then Ramsay came a long and changed the game entirely because now there was physical evidence, a lot of it too. Suddenly Sansa was far too busy to make it out for visits and last-minute events would keep her away on holidays.

It had been nearly two years since she had stepped foot on her family’s farm. Choosing to facetime, call or text her family members frequently instead. Catching them in between flights on a couple of occasions, spending a few hours catching up over a meal in the airport. She always talked about pleasant things, half-truths and blatant lies spewing from her mouth, working a gently woven web of intricate lies.

Confidently creating a picture pretty life that was _just_ satisfying enough to appease everyone and keep the questions at bay. In its own way, it was an art form really and Sansa was a master at it. It came as no surprise, she had been learning since the age of fifteen and she was almost twenty-two now. Not mention the fact, she had been given the unfortunate privilege of learning from the best as well has having more than her fair share of materials to practice with. It was fucked up, Sansa knew that.

She may lie to everyone else but one thing she didn’t do was lie to herself. Never again. Lying to yourself was dangerous, that had been another life lesson, one that she had been slow to learn. Sansa paid dearly for that mistake many times over again, far more than she was comfortable with.

So yes, it was fucked up, her life was fucked and _she_ was fucked up, more so than she cared to admit or even fully acknowledge. No one really knew who Sansa was, Sansa didn’t even know who she was. _My mother never knew me either and now it’s too late._

That thought sunk all the way down into Sansa’s stomach as she guided her car away from Highgarden and onto the exit ramp, headed North on The Kings Road, towards Winterfell. It was a straight shot but would take about two, maybe three days to reach her destination.

Sansa’s relationship with her mother was complicated to say the least, she had a lot of anger towards Cat. Everything she had been through could have been avoided if her mom hadn’t gotten so worked up over _the incident._ Did such a tiny transgression really warrant Sansa having to leave her home to live with her Aunt and Uncle, of all people?

Not that Catelyn Stark really knew, the monster that was Petyr Baelish, only the mask that Petyr choose to wear in front of her. Sansa knows her mother loved her, she knows Catelyn never would have sent her to him had she known what it would be like. And it’s not like she could tell anyone while it was happening, Petyr saw to that.

It would break Catelyn’s heart if she knew even half of what Sansa endured after she made that fateful decision, it would have destroyed her. Especially if she knew that the cycle continued even after Petyr. Knowing all those times Sansa had begged to come home.

No Sansa loved her mother too much to put her through that kind of pain, it was bad enough that she had to suffer with the knowledge, why should others. That’s why Sansa never said anything years later after it was all said and done. She just excepted it and tried to move on. Besides that, the sheer thought of even alluding to the trauma she had endured at the hands of so many, to someone she actually knew was unbearable. She could picture the shock and horror on their faces, the idea of their pity fills her with embarrassment and paralyzes her with shame.

No, it was better that both Ned and Cat went to their graves in ignorance. Of that, Sansa was sure but it didn’t make her feel any less conflicted when it came to the matter of Catelyn Stark and now she was dead. This fact piled onto everything else left Sansa feeling raw and vulnerable.

Guilt for feeling anger towards her mom, just hours after her death, welled up, clawing its way to the surface. Only to be followed by more anger. Sansa embraced it, let it fill every crevice of her being. She had a long drive ahead of her and if she couldn’t be numb than she would rather be angry. Anything was better than the pain that lurked just below the surface.


	2. You've left me now and it's seasoned my soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nostalgia gets the best of Sansa during her drive though the northern mountains and is swept up in fluffy memories of Ned.  
> Ned and Sansa share their love of Stevie Nicks, Ned is a Stevie Nicks fan girl but shhh! Don't tell, it's a secret!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I said this was going to be a pretty dark fic and that hasn't changed, however you guys got a super fluffy Ned and Sansa, memory chapter this time around! I wanted to show the difference between Sansa's relationship with Ned vs Cat. 
> 
> When I tried to picture the North in this story I kept picturing the smoky mountains in eastern Tennessee, if anyone cares LOL
> 
> If you can't tell I really love Stevie Nicks and now, Ned and Sansa do too!
> 
> * CHAPTER TITLE * is from Stevie Nicks & Sheryl Crow's song " If you ever did believe"
> 
> * OTHER SONGS MENTIONED BY STEVIE NICKS *  
>  \- Gypsy  
>  \- Crystal  
>  \- Seven Wonders

Sansa had grown used to the large cities of the south, brimming with people and traffic, tall buildings looming over you no matter where you went. She always forgets just how truly wild and beautiful the north is, you could drive for hours and see nothing but nature. Large tree covered "hills" surrounded you and snow peaked mountains glistened off in the distance.

Strong, proud and majestic, is how her father always described the North and he had been right, it truly was. It takes her breath away every time she comes back and this time was no different. She lights a cigarette and rolls her window down. The smell of pine and earth mixes with the cool night air, filling her lungs, reminding her of days long gone. The realization that she’s on familiar roads sends a sudden surge of joy racing through her body.

She’s stoned and the knowledge of being so close to home, combined with the scenery and thoughts of her dad, has her riding high on a wave of giddy nostalgia. She doesn’t just embrace it. No Sansa revels in it, she fully immerses herself into the past.

She syncs her phone to the jeep and clicks on the Stevie Nicks &; Fleetwood Mac playlist. “Gypsy” comes rolling through her speakers and Sansa is immediately transported back in time. She’s seven, looking at the same turns and twists of the road she sees now. She’s sitting in the front of her daddy’s truck, feet swinging as the air around her fills with the sound of Stevie’s gravelly voice mixed with her own.

She glances to her left and flashes a at grin at her daddy. Ned sits relaxed, a careless smile on his lips, arm dangling outside the window and one hand on the wheel. He’s wearing the same trucker hat that Robb had given to him as a birthday gift that year. It still looks new, not like the old ratty thing Sansa recalls seeing last. It’s dark grey and white, a stag graces the front of it. The Stags had always been Ned’s favorite football team, he was a die hard fan, a lifer.

He chews on a toothpick, letting it hang out of the side of his mouth and acknowledges her with a wink. He grabs the toothpick from between his teeth,

“Sing it, sweetheart!” he says with a chuckle and a wave of his hand, turning up the volume. “Gypsy” blasts from the trucks old speakers and Sansa’s heart feels light as she sings along. Trees blur past her as Ned drives the twisted mountain roads with a confidence only a true northerner can.

They hit a large pothole and Sansa twists around to check on the small trailer attached to the back of the truck. Her daddy chuckles again, saying something about maternal instincts but Sansa doesn’t know what that means so she just smiles sweetly at him, basking in the look of pride he is giving her.

Sansa Stark was the proud new owner of a baby goat. She had promised her daddy, with all her seven-year-old little heart, that she would be responsible for it and she intends to be the best goat owner to ever exist.

Sansa had always been smart for her age and determination was engraved in her bones, just like any other Stark. She spent two whole months convincing Ned that she was ready. She read every age appropriate book she could about goats and had nearly driven Ned crazy with questions about goats.

After she joined 4h, Ned started to take Sansa’s request more seriously, thinking maybe this wasn’t just another fad that little Margery Tyrell had involved her in. The sun was not up yet as Ned snuck quietly into the room his two daughters shared, waking Sansa quietly and telling her to get dressed and meet him in the kitchen.

Sansa remembers being so scared and nervous as she sat across from her father at the kitchen table, quietly eating their oatmeal. He hadn’t said anything to her since she walked in to find him eating his meal with a cup of coffee, pen in hand and a pad of paper full of numbers and hastily scrawled words, sat in front of him. He had pointed silently at the seat across from him and she sat down and began to eat.

Sansa was sure this was about the lawn tractor that she had left laying half submerged in the pond less than a mile from the house. _It wasn't fair!_ It wouldn’t even be there in the first place if he had just taught her how to drive it the way he had taught Robb!

She frowns as she thinks about the trouble that was coming her way and looks out into the cold rainy morning. The dark of night was beginning to lift and she knew the sun was on its way, she could see the misty drizzle that fell from the sky and Sansa thought it was an appropriate setting for the scene that was surely about to unfold.

Sansa sighs quietly, bracing herself as she tries to muster the confidence to speak up and confess her crimes, thinking maybe he’ll go easier on her if she beats him to it. Ned looks up at her, a small quirk to his mouth, he was holding back a smile.

“So, about this goat.” Ned smiles as Sansa releases her breath in a gasp, head tilting to the side, a quizzical look upon her face.

“It will be your responsibility Sansa. Do you understand what that means?” He doesn’t wait for her to respond, “It means, it’s your job and yours alone.”

Sansa understands and didn’t need any more detail. She lived on a farm after all, she understood what would be expected. It would be her job to feed it, keep it clean, muck out the stall and bring it to and from pasture. Every day whether it was Rain, snow or shine she would be out in that barn at least twice a day.

“Thank you, daddy,” she squealed, running around the table launching into his arms, all memory of the tractor forgotten in her joy. “I promise I won’t let you down, I’ll prove it to you, you’ll see!” It came out rushed and breathless.

“I know you will, love. Now go get your boots and jacket, I called a man. Apparently, he has a goat with your name written all over it,” he said with amusement.

That day was one of Sansa’s most beloved childhood memories. They had left the house hand in hand as the sun began to rise and the rain stopped. Ned lifted Sansa into the big, dull, red truck. They had driven thirty minutes south of Winterfell to buy that baby goat.

On the way there, Sansa had found an old tape cassette hiding in the back of the glove compartment. She had popped it in, without looking twice and that was Sansa’s first experience with Stevie Nicks. It had been magical. Sitting next to her daddy, cool air whipping her crimson locks around as she rode the high of anticipation. Fleet Wood Mac played on the radio as a bewitching voice sang out about seven wonders.

‘ _sing it, sweetheart!_ ’ The memory echoed through her head, filling her heart with a fierce warmth and a giggle on her lips, as though she was still that seven-year-old girl.

She had spent the whole ride back, belting out Stevie Nicks with her daddy and by the time they made it home, Sansa knew all the words to Gypsy. She decided then and there, from that day on, that it was and always would be, her favorite song. She even named the damn goat after that song. Gypsy.

It wasn’t until hours later, when they had driven up the long driveway and parked out front of their home, that her guilt finally over takes her. Sansa didn’t deserve any of this! she didn’t deserve to be sitting here, singing along with her daddy, a new goat hitched up in back and having all this fun. She drove the tractor into a pond and then didn’t say anything about it!

In all honesty, she had been hoping to get away with blaming it on Robb and his friend Theon! Sansa felt the shame burn her face as she realized how mean that was. With a flick of her tiny wrist she shut the radio off and took a deep breath, twisting her body so she was facing Ned straight on. There was no easy way around it so Sansa simply opened her mouth and let the words spew out,

“Daddy, I did something awful. I was angry that you let Robb ride the tractor and not me, so I stole it when no one was watching. I thought I could do it because it looks so easy but I messed up and drove it into the pond, all the way down the hill.”

Her eyes are down turned by the end of her speech and her face is red shamed. “I’m so sorry. Especially because I didn’t tell you before going and getting my goat.” It comes out shaky and her eyes are filling with unshed tears.

Ned sat quite for a while, stealing glances at her. “Did you learn your lesson?” he asks quietly after considering her words for a moment.

She nods her head, unable to open her mouth for fear that a sob will escape.

He nods in return.

“Always learn from your mistakes Sansa, that is how you prove to others that your truly sorry. I accept your apology and I trust you to do better in the future. We won’t speak of this again.”

He laughs suddenly, “I’ll teach you how to ride the tractor and one day I’ll teach you how to drive this old pick up too,” his voice is full of love and pride as he ruffles Sansa hair. “Now let’s show that goat of yours around her new home, hmm?”

Ned had sworn her to secrecy about his love for Stevie Nicks, joking that clearly, they were the only two with good taste and everyone else would just make fun of them if they ever found out. Sansa couldn’t understand that logic but she pinky promised anyway. She felt special, sharing something with her daddy that no one else new about or even understood.

Sansa wiped a happy tear from her face as she thought back on that day, it was one of her most cherished childhood memories. Ned and Sansa had forged their own secret, tradition that day and from then on, whenever it was just the two of them on the road, it was Never just Ned and Sansa.

It was Ned, Sansa and Stevie, the radio turned up as loud as it would go, voices intertwining together as the scenic North flew across their windows. Sansa had every intention of keeping that tradition alive.

As complicated as her relationship with her mother might have been, the one with her father was just as sweet, if not more so. Her heart felt heavy with the loss of him but in that moment Sansa realized, he was never far behind her. He would always be with her because Ned Stark was ingrained in her core.

At the end of the day, it was Ned that had shaped the real Sansa. That sweet, brave, honorable girl, The one full of love and songs and dreams. She had gone into hiding after so many people had let her down but she still lived, deep down inside of herself. Just waiting for the right person to come along and coax her out. The world had tried to tarnish and break her but it had never managed to fully extinguish Sansa’s light.

Eddard Stark would live on. Sansa would keep him alive by honoring the little girl he’d taken pride in and remembering every lesson he had imparted to her. She promised herself she would do everything in her power to breath life back into that little girl, no matter how hard or uncomfortable it might be. She would learn to let her mask fall, even if it killed her.

“Crystal” began to play and she rolled the volume button all the way up. It was nearly 3 o’clock in the morning, the moon hung heavy in the sky, lighting her way home. She drove the twisted, moonlit, mountain roads with a confidence only a northerner could. Just like her daddy taught her, Sansa smiled to herself, _Not much further now._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Sansa will finally return home and be reunited with her remaining family. We will see Ned and Cat's funeral if not this coming chapter, than it will be in the following.
> 
> I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter and that no one was put off by the fluff. Please comment and let me know what you think. Is it spot on? Did I fail somehow? Constructive criticism is very much welcomed here, help me improve my writing folks!


	3. But The Darkness Must Be In My Zone, Yeah I Can't Seem To Breath Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took way longer than it should have, I struggled so badly with this chapter and finally said fuck it and posted.
> 
> **Title based of Hippie Sabotage's song "The Darkness"***  
> It's a good song, everyone do yourselves a favor and go listen to it. I also feel like it explains Sansa's state of mind as well as her life in this fic.
> 
> Also, I apologize in advance for anything weird that occurred during posting this. AO3 is being weird and I tried to fix all of the issues but its past midnight and I'm over it so... Sorry LOL!

**But The Darkness Must Be In My Zone, Yeah I Can't Seem To Breath Alone**

 

Winterfell.

It shines bright below the mountain road, artificial light's twinkling up at her from a distance in the night. Sansa couldn't have been more thrilled, if she had discovered the long-lost city of Atlantis itself.

_Home._

It was just a small, northern town, more well-to-do than most in the area. Located smack dab in the middle of the local hollar, Winterfell was completely off the beaten path but It tended to do well financially.

The wealthy citizens of Westeros liked to pack up their families and head North to "The Wall" to vacation at one of the three popular, ski resorts there. Winterfell was the closest town to Castle Black and a lot of its business would flow down into their little valley.

Locals bitched about, those _damn tourists_ but nobody was complaining about all the money they brought with them. Sansa used to sell the organic, goats cheese she made from Gypsy's milk at exorbitant prices and the _southern yuppies_ ate it up.

Since the age of ten, as soon as the snows hit, Sansa was quite literally rolling in cash. She'd always had a head for money and her siblings never seemed to resent her steady cash flow. Everybody knew Sansa gave the best Christmas gifts and was overly generous with her money when it came to family.

She wasn't the only one to benefit off the backs of tourists either. If you weren't selling them your, "Organic and hand crafted, Northern goods," then you were probably working for one of the giant, ski corporations at The Wall. 

Or at Moles Town, located between Winterfell and Castle Black, it was a dinky little pit stop no longer than a mile long. Offering cheap hotels for the people that couldn't afford to stay at the resorts on The Wall, as well as a movie theater, an outlet mall and an all-night diner and gas station.

So really, no matter how you played it, a lot of Northerners were earning their winter pay from the tourists. That's just the way it was up here.

As Sansa drives slowly down Main Street, she sees Winterfell itself, has benefited from the tourist's money, just as much as its people.

All the shops and main buildings down high street have fresh coats of paint, fancy street lights line the new sidewalks and the roads look recently paved. Sansa vaguely remembers her mother saying something about forming a _beautification committee,_ during one of their frequent phone calls.

She's already made it through town and pulling onto a back road when her phone rings, the screen lighting up.

_Petyr Baelish,_ it reads.

He's the last person Sansa feels like talking to but she doesn't have much choice when it comes to the man she'd spent most of her teen adolescence with.

She had signed a contract with him years ago and signing a contract with Petyr Baelish was as good as signing a contract with the Devil himself.

Between that and all the dirt he'd collected on Sansa over the years, it was safe to say he'd backed her into a corner, leaving her with limited options.

She picks up after the third ring.

"Hello," her voice comes out low and raspy from lack of use.

"Sansa," Petyr says, smooth and silky. Sansa has always hated the way he says her name, a sense of ownership, heavy in his tone.

"I assume you've heard about mother," she cuts right to the chase. Catelyn had always been a sore subject for her, especially when being discussed with Petyr.

Sansa has stopped caring about placating her uncle's feelings, after practically forcing her into Ramsay's arms, nearly two years prior. She may still have to put up with him but that didn't mean she had to play nice.

"Yes, I was so sorry to hear about her passing. You know I loved your mother very much. I stopped by your apartment to check on you. Your land lord said you'd packed everything up and left?"

It's worded as a question, even though he already knows the answer and Sansa can feel his disapproval seeping through the phone.

"Yeah well, I didn't realize what I was doing until I was already on the road but I'm not coming back to Highgarden after the funeral, if that's what you're getting at."

"Sansa..."

Most people would assume it was worry in his voice but Sansa knows better, he's annoyed with her and it permeates the air. She waits for the cryptic, long-winded speech that she is about to receive.

_Here we go,_ she thinks as he starts spewing his elegantly worded, bullshit.

"My love, you know we have a contract. If it was up to me, I would rip it up immediately so that you might finally return home to your beloved Winterfell. I know how much you've longed for that over the years and I wish only to see you happy."

_Wait for it._

"However, that decision isn't up to me, as you well know. I'm afraid we don't have much of a choice in the matter, even if you're not performing anymore, dearest. Of course, I'm willing to speak to the label on your behalf," he says, letting his sentence trail off at the end.

The insincerity oozes from his lips and Sansa holds back from calling him out on his blatant lies. She had expected no less but his words anger her all the same. She had known this would be his response and Sansa had prepared her own, well in advance, while on the road.

"You're right. I'm _not_ a performer anymore, I haven't been for years and I don't need to be in Highgarden or Kings Landing to write music. I can do that anywhere and I wouldn't be the first person on the label to do so. You're always going on and on about my contract but what about all the promises you made to _me_? _You. Owe. Me."_

 

Sansa is practically spitting, venom lacing each word.

 

"For six years I have given myself to you and that label in every possible way. Whether I wanted to or not and all I have to show for it, is pain and torment. I _will not,_ return South. I _will_ stay in the North with my siblings, where I will continue writing songs for the label until my contract is up. Am I understood?"

 

Sansa has been on the road for two days, she's hungry, her ass hurts and she's finally on her way home but only because her parents have died. The last thing she wants to do is argue over what she is going to do with _her_ life.

 

"And if I can't make that happen?"

 

He's playing with her and they both know it. Petyr Baelish is a very powerful man, able to accomplish anything he sets his mind to but Sansa knows he's curious to see how far she's willing to take this.

 

"I'm not the only one with secrets Petyr. Find a way or I'll go public with everything that you, the Lannister's and their Godforsaken label have put me through. I have more than enough proof. My parents are dead, my singing career is dead. My siblings barely know me. I can write under any name I choose and believe me when I tell you, Casterly Rock is not the only label that wants me. What else do I have to lose? My life?" Sansa laughs bitterly. "My life is _shit,_ I hate everything about it. I don't fucking want it anymore."

 

"And how are you going to write these songs in Winterfell with no studio?" He ignores her outburst the way one ignores a toddler throwing a temper tantrum.

 

"That's not my problem, figure it the fuck out."

 

Petyr heaves a heavy sigh, he doesn't try to argue back or make his case, he can sense she's at a breaking point and Sansa knows she's won this round.

 

"I'll do everything in my power to make it happen, my love."

 

"I expect it to be figured out by the time you make it North for the funeral. We'll talk more then."

 

She hangs up the phone without a second thought, cursing Littlefinger to his grave.

 

He had always hated that nickname and Sansa found a twisted pleasure every time she used it. Never to his face though. He'd never had a problem letting Sansa treat him like shit, so long as he could still get what he wanted from her.

 

It was just another facet of their fucked-up relationship. Everybody had a line though and Sansa knew better than to cross her uncles.

 

Her mother had believed she was doing the right thing by sending her to Lysa and Petyr all those years ago. She thought she was giving Sansa a glamorous opportunity, a life full of wealth, fame and easy roads. Far away from the north, it's inhabitants and all its hardships and mistakes that surely awaited her perfect prodigy, should she stay.

 

Catelyn Stark had never been so wrong.

 

Sansa never had a real childhood, not really.

 

Sure, she went to school, had friends and a loving family, she even had a few hobbies outside of the ones Catelyn pushed on her but at the end of the day her mother had a specific path and destiny already mapped out for her.

 

Sansa never had a say in the matter but it hadn't bothered her back then. She loved dancing and singing and if she could grow up to be just like one of her many idols, well, that was more than fine with her.

 

Catelyn had raised Sansa to be a perfect little lady and her daughter had proved to be the ideal type of clay for molding and shaping.

 

She took to the piano like a duck to water at a young age and exceled in all the dance classes her mother had pushed her into. As she grew older and it was agreed by all, that Sansa had the voice of an angel, her vocal lessons had begun.

 

While Catelyn had two daughters, it became clear that Arya, a tom-boy, was simply too unruly to follow in her older sister's footsteps. This caused Catelyn to throw all her time and energy into molding Sansa for the life she had once dreamed of for herself.

 

Her mother had never been musical but she had danced ballet beautifully.

 

An unfortunate ankle injury ended her career before it had even begun and Catelyn had settled instead. She had known Ned from a tender age and when she returned home from the big city, broken hearted and lost, they were reintroduced, married a few months after and followed up by the birth of Robb a year later.

 

Catelyn Stark was a true stage mom and Sansa never let her down, she never cried, she never gave up and she always won.

 

Until one day, something or better yet _someone_ , turned her fifteen-year-old-head far enough for Sansa to realize that maybe life was more than just dancing and singing.

 

It's not that she didn't want the life her mother had painted for her at every opportunity because she did, she just wanted _more_ to go along with it.

 

When Catelyn became aware of what she _thought_ was going on, she had taken immediate action.

 

In less than a week she had arranged for Sansa to move to Kings Landing with her aunt Lysa and uncle Petyr. Lysa was very ill and bed ridden most days, Sansa would help keep her younger cousin Robin company and Petyr would see that she was given the best opportunities the music industry had to offer.

 

He was an important man at Casterly Rock, one of the biggest record labels in the seven kingdoms and he promised to see to her music career himself. Sansa would have the best mentors and training, meet all the right people and when it was time, he would help her transition flawlessly into the spotlight.

 

Petyr had kept all his promises but every single one of them, came with a heavy price and Sansa was the one paying that bill, not Catelyn.

 

Far away and all alone in Kings Landing, Sansa found herself first at the mercy of her uncle, then the Lannister's and eventually Ramsay.

 

While Sansa may have found the wealth, and fame her mother so longed for her to have, she had also been groomed and whored out in more ways than one. Sansa Stark had suffered greatly for her mother's dream. Mentally, physically and emotionally.

 

Pushing the past from her mind, Sansa focuses on the here and now. She's been driving past Stark land for almost twenty minutes now and she knows her turn is coming up, it's still dark though and she'll miss it if she isn't paying attention.

 

She spots the mailbox last minute and takes the turn quickly, causing gravel to fly up. It's a long winding driveway and it takes Sansa almost five minutes until the Barn comes into sight, followed closely by the big stone house that's been in her family for generations.

 

Everything still looks the same as it did the day she'd left six years ago.

 

Sheets and a quilt, flapped gently against the clothes line out in the yard. Her daddy's old red truck is parked over by the barn like always and the sight sends Sansa's heart into agonizing palpitations.

 

The old stone house sits large and proud, partially nestled into a large hill, it's insides devoid of light.

 

The sun would be up soon and Sansa doesn't want to wake anyone so she turns the jeep off, leaving the windows down and extinguishing the lights.

 

Her entire body is vibrating, molecules dancing and swirling with intense emotions. Adrenaline coursing through her veins, causing her hands and legs to tremor slightly.

 

She had never considered a person could feel so much joy and fear all at the same time.

 

She was happy to be home, surrounded by her remaining family but she was also scared shitless. How was she supposed to be herself without scaring them off or giving to much away? What if they didn't want her living with them, what then?

 

The unanswered thoughts are causing her anxiety. She can feel her chest and throat tightening, no matter how much breath she sucks in, her lungs aren't expanding with it. She's in the beginning stages of a panic attack, Sansa knows the sensations well.

 

She slows her breathing, focusing on each breath as she inhales and exhales, deeply. She grabs her purse and pulls a joint out of an old cigarette pack, lighting it up and taking a few quick hits to get it burning before taking a long pull, holding it in for as long as possible.

 

She feel's her chest loosen, exhales and then hits it again, repeating the process a few times.

 

Sansa snatches her notebook and pen from her purse, it was her life line and she took it everywhere with her. She had been keeping notebooks like this since she was young, writing down all the hopes and dreams only a stupid, silly little girl, could have.

 

If only she had known back then what she knew now, she would have done things differently, she would have fought her mother tooth and nail, refusing to ever step foot in Kings Landing.

 

She doesn't journal anymore; her life experiences are too fucked up and out there for her to write them down in that way. Instead she writes songs and poetry, it pays the bills, keeps the label happy and acts as a type of therapy. It was a win, win all around.

 

She's sitting in her jeep, cross legged, puffing away on the joint and working on lyrics for a new song when someone sneaks up on her.

 

"Hey," It comes out soft and quite but it scares her all the same.

 

She was high and so caught up in the words spilling from her pen, that she hadn't noticed the sound of boots on gravel. Her hands fly up, scattering her notebook and pen. The joint she'd been in the middle of hitting, escapes her grasp, falling on the seat and rolling under her leg.

 

"Fuck!" Sansa yelps, pushing the door open and accidently swinging it straight into her surprise visitor.

 

She jumps out of the jeep in pain, attempting to flee the burning joint.

 

"Fuck!" She exclaims once again, diving back in to fish it out before it caused any more damage to the upholstery of her seat.

 

She grabs it and stubs it out, tossing it into the ashtray and turning back around to face the person who is now laughing openly at her.

 

"Jon," she's suddenly breathless.

 

"Are you ok," he asks, "I didn't mean to scare you, sorry about that." He smiles sheepishly.

 

"Yeah, I'm fine. You're fine. It was my fault anyways, I should have been paying attention. I'm sorry." Sansa is rambling and she can't seem to stop.

 

"Why are you apologizing?" he questions. "You didn't do anything wrong."

 

He takes a hesitant step towards her, reaching out to give her a hug and Sansa flinches out of habit. This was her cousin, Jon. She knows he would never hurt her. She tries to hide the involuntary reaction but she sees the way he looks at her and Sansa knows she's failed.

 

He takes a step back, confusion painting his face and Sansa feels bad.

 

"Sorry," she laughs uneasily, stepping forward and embracing him. "It's been a long trip and I'm exhausted, a little paranoid too, I guess."

 

Sansa chuckles sheepishly, her eyes rolling as she nods her head towards the jeep and the heavy scent of marijuana, wafting from its open windows.

 

He doesn't say anything just pulls her in close, the smell of horses, pine and earth, hits her nose and it's a comforting, familiar smell. Jon smells like home and Sansa literally drags herself back from his strong embrace.

 

She hasn't felt this safe in years and it's an overwhelming and heady feeling, one that wraps its self tightly around her. Sansa's not sure what kind of look she's giving him but she knows its making him slightly uncomfortable, by the way he shuffles his feet and avoids her gaze.

 

It makes her chuckle.

 

"Sorry," she apologizes again. "It's been so long since I've been home, It feels good to see a familiar face."

 

He doesn't say anything just nods his head like he understands and shrugs his shoulder towards the house, a cocky smirk gracing his full lips,

 

"Well you coming in or did you want to finish up here first? Robb should be up soon, he won't like that your smoking pot." He gives a genuine chortle, "You should have seen him when he caught Arya a few weeks ago, out behind the barn."

 

Sansa is grateful he doesn't ask any questions about her smoking weed all alone in the driveway, instead of heading inside to greet her family, the way a normal person would. He'd simply chosen to acknowledge what he'd seen without judgment. Giving her the option to explain if she wanted to.

 

She giggles at the thought of Robb catching Arya behind the barn getting high and plunges back into the jeep, grabbing her purse and a backpack full of clean clothes. Sansa notices the way he's eyeballing the inside of her jeep, taking a silent inventory of her belongings.

 

"Yeah, I'm done here, I just didn't want to wake anyone up," she explains.

 

"That's a lot of stuff for a visit home," he says, jerking his head in the direction of the car.

 

"I'm not going back after the funeral, there's nothing down south for me anymore." It comes out sounding darker than she'd meant it to. "I hope you guys don't mind me crashing here for a while until I figure out what I'm going to do."

 

She struggles to read the expression on his face before it slips away.

 

"This is your home too Sansa, why would anyone mind?"

 

She doesn't respond to his reply, simply shoots him a soft smile of thanks as he grabs the backpack from her hand, ever the gentleman and starts for the house.

 

They walk in comfortable silence and Sansa is grateful for Jon's easy nature, it feels good to know that some things stay the same.

 

 

 

Jon wasn't the only thing that hasn't changed.

 

Stepping into her childhood home was like stepping back in time and it was fucking with Sansa's head.

 

She keeps expecting to see her daddy coming down the stairs to greet her with a morning forehead kiss or for Catelyn to start demanding it was time to practice on the old piano for the next three hours.

 

Sansa chucks her belongings on the floor, next to the couch and heads towards the kitchen with Jon.

 

"I'm starving," she tells him. "How about we whip up some breakfast, I haven't had real food in days."

 

He gives her a knowing smile, "Yeah I couldn't help but notice all of the fast-food bags piled up in your car."

 

Sansa snorts and shoots him a grin.

 

They fall into a companionable silence, working around each other in the kitchen, as if they had been doing it for years. Jon is loading the coffee machine as Sansa starts prepping skillets and whisking eggs.

 

She can feel his watchful eyes and she knows he's studying her, it makes Sansa wish she had stopped somewhere to freshen up.

 

Her hair is in a loose messy bun on the top of her head, pieces are cascading out and had started to curl from the dewy night air. Large sunglasses perched precariously on her head, where she and stored them the day before as the sun faded away behind northern mountains, red tendrils wrapping around the white frames.

 

She's wearing a thin black hoody with the Guns and Roses logo, over a lose fitting pare of cut offs. The heavy tongues of her worn out, black, ankle boots, fall down over the front of their laces, exposing the tops of her maroon and navy-blue striped socks.

 

Sansa knows her eyes are blood shot, making the blue color of her irises so intense they almost look fake. Â Dark circles, from lack of sleep, stand out prominently against porcelain skin. Her face is bare of make-up and the small, thin scar Joffrey gifted her, lays visible across high cheek bone.

 

She pushes up her sleeves to keep them from being sullied and the scar on her forearm is revealed, a dog bite to match the one on her outer thigh, peeking out from under her shorts.

 

She had Ramsay and his beasts to thank for those. It was nearly impossible to hide them unlike the rest of her body, so eventually Sansa had stopped trying, they were easy to explain away.

 

Catelyn Stark would have had a conniption fit if she could see her eldest daughter in that moment.

 

She would have ushered Sansa upstairs immediately, admonishing her trashy, rocker chic outfit and demanding she take a shower and change into something appropriate. Of course, not before telling her to _, put a little makeup on, for God's sake._

 

She smiles wearily at the thought and not for the first time, Sansa thinks about how much her mother would hate the person she has become. A fucked-up stoner who was more comfortable in hoodies and flannels than the designer gowns she had once worn with confidence on the red-carpet.

 

"How have you been?" Jon asks.

 

The air is thick with his unasked questions and Sansa mentally prepares half-truths, slipping her game face on. She doesn't turn around to answer him, keeping her eyes trained on the task at hand.

 

"Okay, I suppose. I've been pretty busy lately, it'll be nice to have a break," she answers vaguely and quickly tries to push the conversation on to him.

 

"What about you? What were you doing out here so early anyways? Are you still living over in Uncle Benjen's old house?"

 

"Yeah, it's just me and Ghost living there now but I've been staying here the last couple of nights. Thought it might be easier on Robb and the kids. We've got a mare that's about to foal and I wanted to check in on her before breakfast."

 

Jon leans against the counter, jeans tight on his hips, a white tee-shirt strains against hard muscles, earned from years of manual labor on the farm. It's tucked behind a large, rodeo, belt buckle, he must have won at some point. His dark hair is still damp and curly from his morning shower, half of it pulled back in a bun.

 

Sansa had never cared much for the man bun, most men lacked the ability to pull it off but not Jon, on Jon it looked good. Really, really good.

 

As a matter of fact, everything about her cousin looked appealing this morning. _Too appealing_ , Sansa thought, having a hard time keeping her eyes off him and trained on the food in front of her, where they belonged.

 

It's good you're here," he says as she flips the bacon, "we've been living off oatmeal and toast," he laughs softly.

 

That doesn't surprise her, the North was traditional in most ways. While Sansa had been in the house from a young age learning how to cook, clean and sew, the boys had been out in the fields or the barn working alongside Ned.

 

Arya was the exception to that rule.

 

Catelyn Stark had tried her damndest to teach the youngest Stark daughter the ways of a proper Northern housewife, Arya just didn't want anything to do with it. Their mother had tried for years to tame her wild sister but nothing she did ever worked. Eventually Catelyn had given up and it had fallen on Sansa to help her mother with all the housework.

 

Before she has a chance to reply to Jon, someone is holding her from behind, large arms wrapped around her waist, pinning her arms down and squeezing her tightly.

 

Her leg reacts on instinct, lashing out behind her, boot meeting hard shin as she pulls her body forward in attempt to break the grip. She hears her attacker grunt as his arms loosen, Sansa swivels around and pushes on his chest _hard_ causing him to stumble back and out of her personal bubble.

 

She's breathing hard as she looks up and finds herself face to face with her brother, Robb.

 

"Shit, Robb. I'm so sorry," she's embarrassed and feels the rush of hot blood running to her face. "You scared me! are you ok?"

 

She hears the tears and fear in her own voice, feels the tremble in her hands and the sudden burst of adrenaline racing hard through her body.

 

Sansa is mortified.

 

"I'm alright," he grunts, rubbing his shin. "But who else were you expecting to attack you in the middle of the kitchen?" he asks quizzically.

 

"No one, you big dummy! I'm just really tired and you startled me," she throws herself into his arms and he gives her a warm bear hug.

 

Sansa's not sure if it's the lingering fear, the adrenaline or the feeling of Robb's strong arms wrapped around her but whatever the reason, it's just too much to handle and she finally gives way to the tears she's been holding back since Highgarden.

 

Robb holds her tighter as he whispers comforting nonsense into her ear. His hand rubs soothing circles onto her upper back and Sansa blubbers all over his shoulder, snot and tears streaming down her face and smearing his shirt.

 

She's not sure how long it lasts but eventually she's calmed herself enough to pull away and look at him. Robb's own eyes are shining with tears that track down his face and Sansa brushes them away with soft fingertips.

 

She sees the snot and tears she left smeared all over his shirt and Sansa wrinkles her nose in distaste.

 

"I'm sorry," she says between hiccups, trying to rub off the mess she's made there.  

 

"It's alright." Robb assures her with a smile and kisses her on the top of her head the way their daddy used to do, squeezing her shoulder gently.

 

Jon walks back into the kitchen and sets a first aid kit down on the table, Sansa looks at him with a puzzled expression.

 

He must have left at some point to give them some privacy, pulling skillets off the stove top and turning off burners before retreating.

 

"You're bleeding," he says with a nod towards her hand, his lips pulled down at the corners.

 

Sansa looks down and sure enough, blood was seeping from her finger and onto her mother's pristine kitchen floor. She must have sliced her finger, with the knife she had been using before Robb surprised her.

 

"Oh, I didn't even realize." She turns Robb around and there's blood all over the back of his shirt. "Damn, my bad."

 

Robb gives her a funny look before steering her towards a kitchen chair,

 

"Sit, I'll be back in a minute," he says in sternly.

 

He looks over at Jon, who gives him a slight nod in return, before walking out to change his shirt.

 

Jon approaches her the way one approaches a stray dog, slow and cautious. Sansa doesn't like that, it means he's picked up on her strange behavior.

 

She had been home for less than an hour and her mask was already starting to slip in ways she'd prefer it didn't.

 

_This is going to be harder than I thought._

 

She didn't let people into her personal space anymore and Sansa had forgot just how physically affection her family tended to be. All of these hugs and small touches are putting her on edge, calling attention to her aversion at being touched.

 

Jon kneels in front of her and Sansa offers her hand to him, he rests it against his own as he inspects it closely, frequently wiping the blood out of his way.

 

"It's pretty deep, does it hurt? His voice is kind and gentle.

 

"No, I didn't even realize I had cut it."

 

Sansa doesn't feel pain the way she used to, she had developed a high tolerance for it thanks to Ramsay and a small cut to her finger doesn't even register on her radar.

 

Robb walks back into the kitchen wearing a fresh shirt.

 

"How bad is it? That was a lot of blood on my shirt." He sounds worried.

 

"It's going to need stitches," Jon tells him from his place on the floor in front of her.

 

He's still holding her palm in his left hand, while he applies pressure to the cut with his right and Sansa can't help but think of how nice it feels before pushing the thought away quickly.

 

She gently pulls away from Jon so she can assess the damage herself, Sansa is positive she is a better judge on these matters than Jon or Robb.

 

She pulls the soggy paper towel back and brings her finger close to her face, spreading the wound with her fingers so she can get an idea of how deep it is.

 

"Oh wow, that is deep," she exclaims.

 

Robb comes closer for a better look and nods his head,

 

"All right, I'll get my shoes on. Jon, can you hold down the fort while we're gone?"

 

It was such a Ned thing to say and Sansa's lips quirk up at the thought.

 

"No, you guys, it's fine. I'm not going anywhere." Sansa states.

 

"You clearly need stitches. We'll be back soon enough." Robb admonishes.

 

"I'm not driving all the way to the ER for a little cut. Just go into the living room and grab my purse please?"

 

Robb looks like he's about to argue but Sansa gives him a no nonsense look and he walks out in search of her bag. She walks over to the sink and turns the cold water on, sticking her hand under the faucet causing the blood to run pink.

 

"Sansa, I really think we should take you to get stitches." Robb is back, her purse in hand.

 

She shakes her head and waves his concerns away with her free hand.

 

"Jon will you hand me the peroxide? Robb, I have a tube of superglue floating around in my purse, can you fish it out please?"

 

They both give her an incredulous look at that but Sansa ignores them as she pours the peroxide over her finger a few times. She's all business now and doesn't realize the mistake she's made until it's too late.

 

"Sansa?"

 

"Hmm?" She looks over at Robb and freezes, wide-eyed.

 

_Oops._

 

Three large zip-lock bags of weed are sitting out on the table next to the box of bullets and Robb is staring back at her, in shock, Sansa's gun in one hand and the tube of superglue in the other.

 

"Do you want to explain?" Robb asks, his voice high with strain.

 

She looks to Jon, sending him a wordless plea for help, before looking back to her brother. Both faces were clear, no one was rescuing her on this matter, they both wanted answers.

 

"Not really," she waves her injured hand around, stalling for time.

 

"Priorities Robb! Will you please put my gun down and uncap the damn superglue before I lose my body weight in blood?"

 

Before Robb has a chance to move, Jon is plucking the tube from his fingers and walks back to Sansa. He grabs her hand and uses one hand to push the cut together, while the other squeezes out a line of glue. He does it slow and meticulous, taking care not to miss a spot or get it somewhere it wasn't needed.

 

"Thank you," Sansa whispers, her eyes glued to Jon's face, too afraid to look over at Robb.

 

Jon looks up and his eyes hold hers, it makes her stomach flutter in a way it hasn't since Sansa was fifteen.

 

He pulls her hand up close to his lips and blows gently on her finger, trying to make the glue dry faster. It feels intimate, too intimate and Sansa drags her eyes from his, fearing she would drown in pools of deep gray.

 

He nods in response to her weak thanks and taps a finger against hers, checking the glue is dry before wrapping a band aid snuggly around the sealed wound. He gives her hand a quick squeeze before releasing it and Sansa's breath hitches.

 

How long had it been since someone had treated her so sweetly?

 

Long enough, that it makes her uncomfortable to be so gently treated, by hands that aren't her own. Sansa knows that much.

 

She also knows how pitiful a truth it is and rather than analyze that thread of thought, she chooses to push it far into the dark recesses of her mind, along with the confusing thoughts and feelings she obviously still harbors for her cousin, Jon Snow.

 

Sansa especially refuses to touch that thought, not even with a ten-foot pole.

 

Her brain screaming literal _off limits_ and _don't go there's_ as she mentally recites her mother's long list of reasons for avoiding men like Jon. Catelyn had told it to Sansa repeatedly, as she'd helped her pack for Kings Landing all those years ago.

 

The thought of Catelyn and the sight of blood all over her spotless kitchen floors sends Sansa to her knees, rag's in hand as she tries to erase all traces of red and pink from the white tile.

 

Catelyn Stark had always kept an immaculate kitchen, the sight of it would have sent her into a fit.

 

The sight of days old dishes piled up in the sink, accompanied by the contents of her purse dumped across the table and blood trailing across the floor would have offend her mother in more ways than one and Sansa feels an overwhelming sense of guilt because of it.

 

She feels eyes on her as she stands up from the blood she's smearing all over the floor and begins to fill up a bucket of water, working to keep her body loose and unconcerned as she pours a cap full of bleach into the water, grabbing clean rags and her mother's yellow, cleaning gloves.

 

"Um hello? Can we please talk about the fact that I'm currently gawking at a ridiculous amount of weed and holding a loaded gun that just came from my sister's adult themed, Marry Poppins bag?"

 

Sansa snorts and glances at Robb, rolling her eyes as she pulls the gloves on and kneels in front of a large, pink and white smear.

 

"It's really not that big of a deal Robb. What are you so mad about anyways? The weed or the gun?" She keeps her tone nonchalant and slightly bored as she begins scrubbing the floor, already working on a new spot when he finally responds.

 

"Maybe it's because you're living a secret life as someone named Alayne Stone. What the fuck is going on Sansa Stark?"

 

Robb's tone is harsh, he's across the room and has made no move towards her but Sansa feels her body twitch anyways. He's placed the gun on the table next to her open wallet and in its place, are multiple square, plastic, cards.

 

One is an ID with a picture of Sansa, hair dyed dark brown and the name Alayne Stone, on it. An identity Petyr had helped her acquire before moving to Highgarden two years ago. The others are bank and credit cards all in the same name.

 

Sansa looks up at Robb, failing to school the shock and guilt on her face, her eyes are wide like saucers, lips parted and she knows she's busted as soon as Robb reads her expression. His face hardens and his eyes hold hers in an unrelenting grip, he wants her story and the look in his gaze says he expects all of it.

 

Too bad Sansa is a professional story teller and Robb is unaware of that fact.

 

Calling upon the many acting classes she had taken back in Kings Landing, Sansa puts her old skill to good use.

 

Her mind clambers across the mental spider web of lies and half-truths, tugging to see which threads would hold during this weaving and which one's would break. Finding threads, she could intertwine and overlap, helping to simplify the outcome.

 

She wants to be as honest as possible but there are some things, dark twisted secrets, that will never see the light of day. Not if she has anything to say about it.

 

Sansa stands up, pulling off the gloves and tossing them onto the floor with the abandoned rag. She opens her mouth, unsure where to start, closes it and walks over to the seat across from where Robb stands.

 

Just as Sansa is about to pull out the chair and sit down, Arya walks into the kitchen.

 

Gray, thread-bare, sweatpants cuff her ankles and her toes are painted a metallic blue, the same hue gracing shortly trimmed finger nails. Their daddy's black and grey Direwolves hoody, swallows Arya up and her chin length, bob is sticking out in every direction.

 

She's still wiping sleep from her eyes as she makes her way towards Sansa, pulling her into a quick hug before continuing towards the stove.

 

"Thank God, you're here," Arya yawns over her shoulder, "we've been living off oatmeal."

 

"I'm aware, Jon's already filled me in on that matter," Sansa laughs.

 

She watches her little sister grab a plate and begins heaping eggs, bacon and toast onto it. It's unbelievable how little her sister has changed, Arya was nineteen now but she was still no bigger than a twelve-year-old. As a matter of fact, Sansa is pretty sure those are the same track sweats that Arya had worn back in the sixth grade.

 

She's in the middle of asking that very question, when Arya sits down and looks around the table, her eyes landing on plant, metal and plastic.

 

"Whoa, what the fuck?" Arya muffles through a mouthful of eggs, waving her fork around the table.

 

"We were just about to discuss that," Robb answers darkly, his gaze heavy upon Sansa.

 

"So, wait. This is all Sansa's?" Arya laughs comically in disbelief.

 

Sansa rolls her eyes at her brother and sister, before walking over to the fridge and grabbing the glass bottle marked, cow's milk. She pulls four glasses down from the cabinet, before walking back over to the table, passing the cups out as Jon brings three more plates over. Robb is sitting quietly at the table, her gun and weed resting in front of him, clearly sulking.

 

Sansa sits down and takes a bite of eggs before giving her full attention over to their big brother.

 

"Go ahead and ask," her words emotionless and controlled, "but I'm not promising to answer all your questions."

 

"Sansa, are you selling drugs?" Robb practically chokes on the question.

 

A shrill noise and the sound of spattering liquid, turns their heads. Arya is laughing hysterically, milk has sprayed forth from her nose, all over the table in front of her and dripping down her chin. Her chair lays haphazardly behind her, knocked over during her comical reaction to Robb's question.

 

"Did you seriously just ask Miss Perfect if she's a drug dealer?" Arya sputters, tears begin streaming down her face, mixing with milk.

 

Sansa notices Jon barely containing his own laughter at Arya's spectacle and Robb is clenching his teeth in frustration.

 

Sansa knows Robb is upset, his entire perception of his little sister has just been completely turned upside down, no one is taking it seriously and now he's being made fun of for attempting to make a logical assumption. Sansa takes pity on him,

 

"No Robb, I can understand why you might think that but I'm not a drug dealer, I promise."

 

"Then what are you doing with all of this?" He shakes the bags around to emphasize his point.

 

"Big brother, please don't manhandle my green like that," Sansa exclaims, gently trying to pry it out of his grip. "I've been smoking for years now, it's not going to change any time soon and I like buying different strains in bulk. That's why there's so much, I'm not a drug dealer."

 

"Why are you smoking it in the first place and What about the gun?" he prompts.

 

"It's for protection, I have several as a matter of fact. Everything is legal and I have all the paper work to prove it."

 

She gives him just enough information at a time, it's easier to control the conversation that way and allows Sansa to know each question in advance.

 

"Protection from what?" Jon demands, he's leaning towards her from across the table, eyes sharp, voice low.

 

It throws Sansa for a loop, she had been expecting the question but from Robb, not Jon. She is suddenly very aware of the intellect shining bright behind his and Arya's eyes, all four orbs glued to her with rapt attention. She had only been worried about fooling Robb but now Sansa's not so sure.

 

It's not that Sansa thinks Robb is unintelligent, because he's not. He is however one of the kindest most honest people Sansa knew and it had never been hard to pull the wool over her big brother's eyes. Robb was too good and failed frequently when it came to taking others at their word.

 

Sansa knows she must be quick and genuine, it's not too hard, weaving half-truths but her sister's and cousin's intensity is making her anxious. They are watching her in a way Sansa is very familiar with, watching in a way most people don't, looking for not just consistency in her words but body language, eye movement and voice inflection. Â 

 

They watch her in a way that almost reminds Sansa of Petyr, quick and calculating. It surprises her, Arya had never seemed to care about what Sansa thought or even said, other than to mock her and Jon's relationship with her was practically non-existent, thanks to her mother and the incident from all those years ago.

 

If Sansa was being honest, she hadn't expected anyone else to care or notice her changes, other than Robb. People had been overlooking her for years, her family included and now Sansa is cursing herself for thinking so small and not anticipating change.

 

Leaning forward slightly Sansa rests her elbows on the table, her arms reaching towards Robb, palms open towards the ceiling. Her eye's hold his and she waits a moment before speaking again.

 

_I'm honest and open,_ her body language says.

 

"I spent three years in the lime light," Sansa speaks quietly, calmly.

 

"I was all over the radio, all over the TV and magazines. My life was on display for everyone to see, everywhere I went, people were in my face. Paparazzi wanted pictures, fans wanted autographs and selfies. People I had never met in my life, acted like they knew me because the media made them feel like they did, it made them feel like they were entitled even. There were a few... instances."

 

Sansa feels the tension building and pauses to take a sip of her milk. She taps her fingers against the table top, eyes flicking briefly upward and pretends like she's deciding on exactly how much to tell them.

 

"I developed a few stalkers over the years. It was scary, having my privacy invaded on such an intimate level, I took precautions. Some of those involved learning basic self-defense and becoming a gun owner."

 

"Why didn't you tell mom and dad about this, Sansa? Why didn't you tell me?" Robb asks angrily. "We could have been there for you, tried to help you somehow."

 

The accusation stings, even though Sansa understands it comes only out of worry for her safety.

 

"Robb," she works to keep her voice steady. "Mom knew. I called almost every day for four years, begging to come home. She said I was always welcome home for visits but my life was in the South, now, I had a career and responsibilities."

 

"Bullshit!" Robb says loudly over her. "Mom would never say that, she would never leave you alone in a situation like that. Family, duty, honor. Or are you claiming she forgot her family words too?"

 

His face is red, while his voice cracks and his hands tremble. Sansa has never seen Rob so angry with her, not since they were children and her cat had eaten the lame squirrel he had found and tried to nurse back to health.

 

The accusation of Catelyn Stark being anything but the kind and loving mother _he_ had known, sent Robb into a protective frenzy.

 

His relationship with their mother had always been different than the one Sansa had with her. Robb was the first born, a son and Sansa the eldest daughter. Catelyn's plans for the two had always been different from each other and she had raised them in accordance to those plans. Sansa is beginning to realize that Robb doesn't fully understand that yet.

 

"She didn't leave me alone, she left me with _Petyr_." Sansa clarifies bitterly.

 

"Mother stayed with me for two weeks the first time. I was sixteen, it was my first year working for Casterly Rock and some creep tried to kidnap me on my way out from a radio interview. He didn't succeed thanks to the radio host and we got his plates, he was arrested within twenty minutes. Come to find out he had been stalking me for weeks. Had an entire room filled with pictures of me, he knew my daily routines and habits, apparently he even followed me on tour a few weeks prior."

 

Sansa pulls out a cigarette from her hoody pocket and walks towards the screen door, swinging it open. She leans against the frame, putting the cigarette between her lips and lighting it, she turns her head to blow the smoke outside.

 

It _had_ been a disturbing experience but in truth nothing compared to Petyr, Joffrey or Ramsey. Sansa knows that now and this story, this half-truth might not be the whole story but it was a part of the story and for now, it was enough to make her point.

 

"Aunt Lysa and I weren't getting along and having stalkers skulking around cousin Robin was the final straw. Mom agreed with Petyr to let me get my own apartment so long as it wasn't too far from him. She found a penthouse with a twenty-four-hour fully staffed lobby and all the amenities. It was two blocks away from Petyr's, close to the labels main offices and was in close access to a lot of restaurants that delivered. She had me moved in that day and on the second day her and Petyr hired my own personal security detail. We spent the rest of her visit shopping and decorating my new place."

 

"I remember that visit," Arya pipes in. "Someone snapped a bunch of pictures while you guys were out to lunch. Mom was in the grocery store checking out when she saw them on the front page of Westeros Weekly. She was so excited until she read a nasty comment about the way you were smashing on a burger. I remember her hounding you about your diet every time you called after that."

 

"Well, mocking my eating habits, is hardly the worst offense I've had to deal with at the hands of the press and that was hardly the first time she'd bitched about my diet." Sansa states blandly.

 

Robb is still shaking his head, refusing to meet anyone's eyes and Arya huffs at him with annoyance.

 

"Honestly, Robb!" Arya exclaims. "Mom loved Sansa and I just as much as you boys but she always raised us differently, especially Sansa. Her entire childhood was spent training for celebrity greatness. She was becoming a big deal, on the radio and touring, I remember. No way in hell mom would let her walk away from that and if you believe differently, then you didn't know Catelyn Stark as well as you think you did."

 

Robb finally looks up at Sansa, What about Alayne Stone?"

 

"Wait what?" Arya deadpans, her body going completely still.

 

Sansa sighs and rubs her face tiredly before lighting up another cigarette, wishing she could spark up a joint instead.

 

"Okay, so two years ago, I told you guys I was going to drop off the music scene for a while and focus on College... well that was only partially true. Something happened... I got into some trouble. I needed to get away but I was under contract. The label agreed to let Sansa Stark take a break but not Alayne Stone. I've been writing and producing music for the other bands and singers of Casterly Rock under that name for two years now."

 

"Shut the fuck up," Arya whispers in awe. "Are you seriously sitting there and telling me that you're the mysterious, Alayne Stone? I mean, this is a joke, right?"

 

"I don't understand," Jon says to Arya, who is now reaching for one of the magazines to her left, flipping a few pages in before beginning to read aloud.

 

_"_ _Alayne Stone has written many of the songs, playing on the radio today. She's talented and diverse, currently dominating in most genres and won several awards earlier this year, all excepted by Casterly Rock on her behalf. No one knows what she looks like and has refused all interviews, to date. She's a celebrity mystery, shrouded in rumors and conspiracies. Continue reading on page 10 to learn the few things we do know about the fast becoming legendary, artist, Alayne Stone.'_ And apparently your sister is claiming to be her." Arya speaks in a mocking news anchor voice.

 

Everybody looks at Sansa, expectantly. So, she throws her hands up wide in the air,

 

"Surprise."

 

Jon bites back a smile, while Robb pinches the bridge of his nose and Arya's mouth falls open.

 

"You've got to be shitting me," her little sister finally manages. "Your hoody makes way more sense now, I mean I didn't even think you knew who Guns and Roses was."

 

Sansa rolls her eyes, you could always count on Arya for a little comic relief.

 

"Why didn't you tell us?" Robb is looking at her like she's a stranger.

 

But Jon doesn't seem to care about that, his eyes never leave hers as he begins his interrogation,

 

"You said something bad happened, that you got into trouble and needed to get away. What happened that you would go to the lengths of dropping your career, taking on a fake identity and moving to Highgarden?"

 

"It doesn't matter anymore. It's over and I don't want to talk about it," she feels the heaviness of everyone's stares and the glint in Jon's eyes, speaks volumes to Sansa, _this isn't over._

 

"And Robb, as for your question, I didn't want mom to know, for multiple reasons. My biggest reason being that I was ready to spread my wings, creatively. Even from thousands of miles away she still managed to be the ultimate stage mom. You have no idea what that's like."

 

"How'd you get those scars?" Jon demands, his eyes rake from her thigh, up her hip and across her stomach to her forearm. The intensity of his gaze giving rise to goosebumps across her body.

 

"Dog attack," Sansa clips out.

 

"Let me guess, it wasn't a big deal either," Robb mocks bitterly.

 

"No, it wasn't." Sansa lies.

 

"And your cheek?" Jon continues prodding.

 

"Bitch fight." Another half-truth, Joffrey _was_ a little bitch after all.

 

"Did you win?" Arya asks, genuinely curious about the outcome.

 

"No." Sansa responds darkly.

 

It's quite for a moment as everybody collects their thoughts. The only sounds coming from forks, scraping plates and the steady rhythm of _tick-tocks_ coming from the large grandfather clock, great grandpa Stark had built. It stood old and grand, just like everything else in the house.

 

Sansa watches as her sister works through the thoughts in her mind, something is clearly bothering her and Sansa wonders how long until she can put a finger to it. She hadn't expected Arya to be so familiar with Alayne Stone, her sister had never seemed interested in the music industry and Sansa knew exactly what was coming next, bracing herself for the questions bound to follow such a realization.

 

It took about 10 minutes before Arya figured it out and Sansa knew the minute it, happened. The realization of who her big sister really was smacking her so hard in the face that Sansa actually watched it happened.

 

"Sansa?" Arya asks carefully a few minutes later.

 

"Yeah?" Sansa answers wearily.

 

"You're really different," she lets the sentence trail off.

 

"People change, Arya."

 

"You're okay though, right? Most of Alayne Stones music is... dark and... like even the happy songs aren't what they seem."

 

Sansa looks her sister dead in the eye before forcing a smile, fully aware that no matter how hard she tries it will never quite reach her eyes.

 

"Most of my songs aren't what you think they are Arya, I'm pretty heavy handed with my metaphors and not all of them are strictly _mine_ , either. I also write with specific artists in mind, sometimes we do it together and sometimes they tell me what they're looking for and I do it alone. All have unique experiences they're trying to convey, some like to leave room for personal interpretation and others prefer it to be obvious. Â For example, a song called The Mountain by The Brotherhood Without Banners, isn't about chasing an outlaw through the River Lands and killing him. It's about the bands first manager, chasing dope in the River Lands and over dosing in a strip club, he lost a shit ton of their money that weekend but managed to land them the gig that put them on the map. Myrcella Baratheon's song Dorne, isn't a real love song either, it's about the time the two of us snuck off to Dorne after I broke up with her brother. We were only supposed to stay for a weekend but then we dropped acid in the Water Gardens with some locals and ended up staying an entire week. Cersei and Petyr were so pissed, they sent Jamie and Bronn, of all people to come and get us, a mistake on their part. All four of us ended up on Oberyn Martell's yacht and it took another two weeks until we finally returned to Kings Landing. I think it took a whole month to recover from that bender," Sansa laughs genuinely.

 

Arya looks intrigued, as much as she does suspicious and Sansa can tell her sister wishes to ask more, before glancing around at their audience and thinking better of it, choosing to nod her brown head instead. Her eyes bore into Sansa's, _I'm not done with you yet,_ they promise _._

 

"Acid?" Jon and Robb exclaim in tandem.

 

"No more, you guys. I'm exhausted, the boys will be up soon and we still haven't discussed the funeral. I don't even know what happened." Sansa stumbles over the last part.

 

It's a sobering statement for all of them and Sansa feels a literal shift in the atmosphere because of it.

 

They all take turns telling her, finding it too hard to finish in their grief. It had been late at night, their parents were on their way back from an unexpected, romantic weekend at Eastwatch-by-the-sea, a resort on The Wall.

 

No one knows why they had forsaken their luxury rooms to come home at such an odd hour but a heavy frost had set in overnight, causing icy patches on the bridges and high-altitude, mountain roads. Halfway in between Moles Town and Winterfell, Ned hit an ice patch coming off a bridge in Catelyn's Sedan.

 

The car flipped multiple times before rolling down the mountain and into a river. The coroner's office said both died before hitting the river, debris, decapitating Ned and tearing through Catelyn's throat. They were still holding hands when their bodies were recovered.

 

It was a heart wrenching tale; just like in the Northern folk songs, they had all grown up on. A tale full of love and tragedy, there wasn't a single dry eye by the time it was over.

 

"The funeral is in two days, we weren't expecting you for another day, so we pushed it back just in case. They had a very detailed will, including funeral arrangements. Everything is pretty much taken care of." Robb explains to her defeatedly.

 

"How'd you get here so quickly anyways? It's a long drive from Highgarden to Winterfell. We were sure you wouldn't get here until tomorrow evening at best," Arya queries.

 

"I power napped at rest stops along the way, I didn't want to waste time in a hotel, I just wanted to get here as soon as possible."

 

Arya is nodding her head like this made perfect sense but Jon was looking at her as if she had started speaking in tongues and Robb was so red faced that Sansa feared for his health.

 

"Have you lost your mind? Do you know what could have happened to you, sleeping alone in your car on The Kings Road? Sansa this is the North for God's sake!"

 

Robb doesn't expand on that comment, he doesn't need to. They all grew up here and they all know the kinds of people that travelled this way.

 

Â You didn't head north unless you already had roots here, heading to the wall on vacation or running from the law.

 

The north was vast, with a low population density. Criminals escaped to her wilds on a normal basis, attempting to flee punishment for their crimes. It was chalked full of thieves, murderers and rapists.

 

Sansa sees the way that Jon and Robb both bristle, the same horrifying images running through their heads.

 

"Well, it's a good thing I had my gun then, right?" Sansa ribs Robb with her elbow as she begins putting the incriminating objects back into her purse.

 

"I'm not sure if I can wait much longer on Bran and Rickon, I'm so tired I'm having a hard time keeping my eyes open," Sansa yawns.

 

She dumps her empty plate unceremoniously into the sink before stumbling into the living room and throwing herself onto the couch, sinking into its plush cushions.

 

"This conversation's not over little sister," Robb hollers from the kitchen. "I hope you know that."

 

Sleep paralysis claims her body within seconds, her mind remains lucid and she hears sighs and feet shuffling around the kitchen, the sounds of dishes clanking. Robb leaves to tend to morning chores in the barn, saying something about letting the boys sleep in while he sees to theirs, too.

 

Sansa hears the screen door slam and the sounds of Arya and Jon cleaning up in the kitchen. Just as she's on the brink of true oblivion she hears Jon asking Arya to show him the songs she had been talking about earlier.

 

The last thought Sansa has before sleep truly claims her, is how fucked she is.

 

She had underestimated Jon Snow before returning home and that mishap was going to cost her dearly.

 

Jon, her beautiful, sexy cousin with his big brain and equally big heart and heroic tendencies was going to ruin everything.

 

Sansa is sure of it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments keep me going guys! Let me know what you think of this chapter and the story so far. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated as well.  
> Don't forget to go listen to Hippie Sabotages song "The Darkness"  
> Next chapter should be up in the next few days, I cut this chapter in half so its already halfway done!

**Author's Note:**

> So what does everyone think of the updated version of this chapter? I personally like it a lot better than the first. I'm hoping to have chapter two up in a few days but I make no promises. My 2nd grader just started school and soccer this week so I am a very busy mom right now. Please make sure to comment, I love feedback and am trying to better my writing technique, constructive criticism is always welcome!


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